The Nation; The Kind of Face-Off in Which Looks Can Kill

HIS bloody, unappetizing lip notwithstanding, Representative Rick Lazio's entry into the New York Senate race generated a basketful of valentines in newspapers and magazines describing his pleasing suburban patina as a big political asset. Not too many articles said the same thing about Mayor Rudolph W. Giuliani, the unadulterated 50's guy whom Mr. Lazio replaced. Meanwhile the opponent of these Senate candidates past and present, Hillary Rodham Clinton, was acclaimed last year in Esquire magazine for her ''sexy'' mouth -- sexy being an adjective that is normally problematic for female politicians.

All of which raises some familiar but entertaining questions: What is the role of good looks in politics? Can a candidate be too attractive? Too unattractive? What constitutes good looks? Would some unsightly American presidents of the past, like the 350-pound William Howard Taft, who installed a massive bathtub in the White House, be elected today? Does hair help?

''Hair helps,'' agreed former Gov. Hugh L. Carey, who dyed his own an orangey-auburn.

They all agreed that bland good looks help in politics, and that men as much as women are damaged by the ''dumb blond syndrome,'' particularly when questions arise about a candidate's intellectual heft. As an exasperated Marilyn Quayle said in 1981, shortly after her husband was elected to the Senate, but some years before he became vice president and misspelled potato: ''There were those on the campaign trail who would say, 'I'm not going to vote for him because he's running on his looks.' Well, what's he supposed to do -- put a bag over his face?''

Then, too, everything changed in American politics after the 1960 Kennedy-Nixon debates and the predominance of television, when politicians had to at least not physically repel voters. ''These days if you're hideous, it does hurt you in politics,'' Mr. Beschloss said. ''A hundred years ago, that wasn't so much the case.''

Historians wonder whether Grover Cleveland, who was not quite so fat as Taft but still deemed unappealing, would have become president if he had had to appear on ''Meet the Press.'' Even Abraham Lincoln, whose charisma and presence were unforgettable, was widely considered ugly and said so himself. Mr. Morris, the biographer of Theodore Roosevelt and Ronald Reagan, said he doubted that Roosevelt would do well on television because of his ''very high, harsh voice'' and ''gnashing white teeth.'' But Mr. Reagan, he said, had a ''physical beauty'' that was ''a large part of his power.''

On the other hand, America's standards have changed. How many people know today that Warren G. Harding was considered a hunk? Women of his time certainly thought so. (After Harding died, his ex-mistress wrote a book describing their lovemaking in a coat closet of the Oval Office.)

In the present day, Steve Forbes may be one former presidential candidate who longs for the era of radio. In videotapes of focus groups that his aides provided last year, a dozen potential voters could be seen kibitzing around a kitchen table in Iowa about Mr. Forbes's television commercials -- and sometimes suggesting that he might want to avoid close-ups. ''This is a very superficial comment, and I hesitate to make it,'' one man said sheepishly. ''But he's not the most attractive or presidential-looking candidate.''

Although John F. Kennedy is widely acknowledged to have set the gold standard in presidential attractiveness, beauty is often in the eye of the partisan. Republicans like Ms. Mucha say that Mr. Lazio's wholesome good looks reflect his youth, energy and enthusiasm -- in short, a description of a fine senator. But Democrats use words like ''cute,'' ''boyish'' or ''Little League parent'' to describe him, implying that Mr. Lazio might be a good senator when he grows up. Ms. Ferraro, a Democrat, also took issue with Mr. Lazio's youthful demeanor, particularly his fall during a Memorial Day parade, which injured his lip. ''I would like to sit him down and say, 'Calm down,' ''' she said.

Attractiveness in women is more complicated. A luscious candidate is definitely not good; none of the experts could name any lookers elected except for Jeanine F. Pirro, the Westchester County district attorney who looks great in short skirts. It is also quite possible to be too rich and too beautiful. In Mr. Garth's view, Bess Myerson, a former Miss America, was hurt by both her looks and elegant style when she ran for Senate in New York in 1980. ''I think it's tougher for women,'' he said.

AT this point in political trends for women, the chief attribute is to appear sensibly attractive and mature like Christine Todd Whitman, Elizabeth Dole and Mrs. Clinton. Mr. McCarthy of W gives Mrs. Clinton especially high marks. ''I'm not sure who's helping her,'' he said, ''but somebody really good is helping her.'' Mr. McCarthy complimented Mrs. Clinton for settling on a look, dark pantsuits, and one hairstyle. The result is that people have stopped talking about her hair -- a goal of any woman in politics. Mr. McCarthy also felt very strongly that a sexy look is ''disastrous'' for politicians because ''it indicates that he or she has things on the mind other than producing great legislation.''

Mr. Granger of Esquire felt differently, at least about Mrs. Clinton. In his eyes she has considerable sex appeal, which he considers a positive. ''It's a combination of power and intelligence and the willingness to wield those weapons unabashedly,'' he said. Still, it is a sexist axiom of the early 21st century that powerful women, whether senators or C.E.O.'s, still don't take on sex appeal as often as men -- Henry Kissinger in his prime is Exhibit A. But Mr. Cuomo, who frequently joked about how an ugly guy got elected governor, disagrees with this view. ''I spent 12 years as governor,'' he said, ''and never felt I had suddenly become overwhelmingly tempting to anybody.''

Even so, the final consensus of the experts was, naturally, that looks never matter as much in politics as positions on the issues or the hard work of campaigning. As Mr. Penn summed it up: ''Boring guys always do better in the end.''